Page 17 of Under His Touch

CHAPTER FIVE

Megan

I SLEPT WITH ALEC.

Omigod, I slept with Alec. Last night, after a couple glasses of wine, it seemed like a good idea. I’m a grown woman who’s in charge of her sexuality, so why not, right? Why not take what I want from a man who was willing to give it. We’re both single, consenting adults and I haven’t been touched in a long time. Not that any man has ever touched me the way Alec has, or ever brought me such intense pleasure.

But now, under the stark light of morning, a headache brewing in the back of my head, I’m second-guessing my decision-making abilities. Truthfully, as much as I want to blame it on the alcohol, I can’t. I wanted him. I wanted my hands on his body, his on mine. I wanted to feel his hard cock inside me, taking me to places no man has ever been able to take me. But why did he want me in his bed, if I’m clearly not his type?

I guess his cock didn’t get the memo.

I lay perfectly still between the warm sheets, sorting things through as I listen to his soft breathing. I told him I hadn’t been with a guy in a long time, and Alec and I have a history. Perhaps I reeked of desperation, and he was just doing me a favor. Still, desperation or not, he wanted it, too.

Nevertheless, I should go, get out of here before we have our second—eight years later—awkward morning after. But what are the chances that I can get out of here without waking him, and move to Canada before he figures out I’m even gone?

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

I flinch at the sound of Alec’s voice. So much for sneaking out. The mattress moves as he rolls my way, and the warmth of his fingers on my chin as he angles my head until we’re eye to eye awakens my body all over again. In his sleep-rumpled state, his hair an unkempt mess, he’s even more beautiful than ever.

And I slept with him.

But the real problem is, I want to do it again.

Then keep doing it.

A groan catches in my throat as his gaze moves over my face, assessing me. “Hey,” he whispers, the softness in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes, warming me all over. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I squeak out, but he frowns at the lie.

“Are you overthinking this?” he asks. I can’t hide anything from this man. He knows me far too well. And he’s right. I’m overthinking this. Like I always do. Heck, for the last eight years I’ve been overthinking the night I seduced him.

“Actually, I was just thinking about moving to Canada,” I say, a successful attempt to lighten the mood, judging by the smile spreading across his face. When that smile reaches his eyes, my heart leaps because in this instant, I realize I’m looking at the boy from my youth, not the anti-love guy who says he’s not a nice man. What I’d do to have the old Alec back full-time. I swallow against a tight throat, and it’s all I can do not to weep for the loss of our closeness.

He lightly brushes my hair back, those intense blue eyes roaming my face. “Did you enjoy yourself, Megs?”

Megs, oh, God, the nickname.

“Immensely,” I say, my sated body aching in all the right places.

“Good. Me, too.”

“But we need to make one thing clear. It was just sex. I’m not looking for or asking anything else of you. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,” I add.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“It was just sex,” he says. “I get it. Not a problem.”

“I shouldn’t have seduced you,” I blurt out, and avoid adding again to the end of the sentence.

A crooked grin curls one corner of his luscious mouth and all I can think about is how his lips felt on my body, between my legs. “You think...” he begins but stops when I pull the blankets up to cover the red blush crawling up my neck. “Hey, wait, no need to be embarrassed,” he says. “We’re adults, doing what adults do.”

“I’ve been hired to find you a wife and plan your wedding, Alec,” I point out. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

His entire body stiffens at the blunt reminder, and a second later he gives a curt, almost dismissive nod. “You’re right, and we have work to do this morning.” He tears his gaze away and gone is the softness in his voice, his face...his posture. My God, the man is such a contradiction, soft and sweet one minute, all business the next. If I’m not careful I’m going to end up with whiplash. “Let’s chalk it up to a night of fun, and put it behind us.”

“That’s exactly what we need to do,” I say, but my heart is already warning me that it won’t be as easy for me as it will be for him. I can’t—won’t—fall for this man again. I want a loving marriage and family, and his goals are in complete contrast to that. We both know that. Any more time in his bed, fun or not, might just draw me back into a place I simply refuse to go.

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